He is Sheikh Mohammed Al-Thani, he is the chief of Qatar’s World Cup bid (was the chief! He’s just knocking about now), he likes long walks in the park, the Chelsea Bridge at moonlight, whiskers on kittens, getting every last bit out of his tube of toothpaste, plain white underwear with no funny business, wearing his hair to the right, gets a bit OCD with the ‘tash but he’s working through it with someone who once did Woody Allen, and all the girls in town follow him all around.

And he’s a Sheikh! Ker-ch-ch-ch-ch-ching!

You can watch him in moving pictures here. He goes on a bit, but he has a nice voice. We just worry that he stops a few inches beneath the screen. Happened once. Met the love of our life sitting by the bar, we talked, we laughed, we cried (we didn’t. Noreallywedid), he was as handsome as a heart attack and as serious as Clark Gable, he wore all the right sunglasses (we imagined), his lip did this, like, thing… know what we’re talking about?, he was solvent and smelt nice, and his teeth-to-gum ratio was close to perfection.

Wealthy Arabs are taller then t’others – you know, because of their Western diet of gold and white chiffon – so chances are this one’s a bit taller.
One has to think of the logistics of these things, Ange.